If It Means A Lot To You
by Triarden
Summary: A transfer student from Ireland takes an interest in a certain wizard, who just so happens to go by the name of Sirius Black. After a handful of arguments, a bloody duel, and a kiss brought on by a few bottles of Firewhiskey, will the strong willed heir to the Black family change his mind about Rory? Or will he never accept that maybe he's more different than he'd once believed?
1. Part One: Denial

It was almost impossible to compare the pain in his chest to anything he had ever felt before. Most children his age complained about scraped knees and paper cuts. They whined about high fevers and their throat hurting after a bad cough. They latched onto their mothers for dear life when they went to the doctor for a routine checkup.

Even though his eyes were closed, he could still see; still remember the small, almost unnoticeable amount of pain he felt every time the needle slipped through the flesh of his bicep to inject yet another medicine the doctors hoped would cure him. He could still feel the hands of his mother's clasped tightly around his own, praying silently that everything would be okay; that her only son would be okay.

However, when he opened his eyes everything was different. He couldn't see the doctor in front of him, his mother was not beside him, and he was no longer a fretted after only child. No, the scene before him was much different. His emerald eyes roamed the familiar room; one that he had been occupying for his entire life, and one that he would inhabit less frequently, beginning on that very day.

"Rory, are you finished packing?"

Rory looked up from his suitcase, his expression changing from one of pained musing to startled awareness. His mother stood in the middle of his room, her silver streaked fiery curls tucked into a neat bun, her chocolate brown eyes wide and curious. For her age, she looked young.

"Yes, I'm done. Is Aine finished yet?"

"At this rate, you two will miss the train for sure. I'll go check on her. Hopefully we'll make it in time," as she turned, Rory coughed, making her stop, looking as though she had suddenly remembered something. "Dearheart, have you taken your medicine today?"

"It doesn't help," he muttered, shuffling his feet as he wiped his mouth.

"It eases the pain and the burden," his mother said softly. "You really should take it, Rory, or else you won't get better. Have you used any magic today?"

This question caused the youth the shuffle once more. "Maybe a little bit here and there… but I feel fine, Mam. Don't worry about me; you have enough on your hands already as it is."

"I'm going to go check on your sister. I want you to go downstairs and get your medicines ready. I'll be right there to watch you and make sure you take them. If you haven't taken them already, I assume that you also haven't packed your extras for the school year?"

"No, I haven't."

"Rory, you know that because your condition is rare, your medicine isn't widely distributed. It will be difficult to supply you with more once you're at school. What if something happened to you during class? You're going to be using a lot of magic for the next few years, and you know very well how much it hurts you."

Rory waved a nonchalant hand. "Yes Mam, I know. I just don't think I need it. I've gotten better since I was a little boy. I've been able to get out more and do more stuff. I think I'm over it. Maybe it was just a phase."

"And if it isn't?"

He grinned and walked past her, giving her a quick hug. "I've already picked out my casket."

She gripped his shoulders and pulled away. "Don't you dare."

"Don't I dare what?"

His mother's eyes brimmed with tears, "Don't act as if you're already dead." She gasped and shuddered lightly. "Your condition is already hard to deal with."

Rory rolled his eyes and pushed away from her. He had long since figured out that there wasn't going to be a cure for his condition any time soon, and since that was the case, he could tease about his condition all he wanted to. It wasn't like anything he said he took seriously; he hadn't actually chosen a casket. The way he so carelessly spoke about his demise was his own twisted way of lightening the mood.

Somehow, by forcing himself to remember that he was only human kept him grounded. Rory was reckless by nature, and every now and again he needed to be reminded of certain things, like the amount of time he had left.

"You and dad and Aine aren't the only ones who have to deal with this," Rory snapped, stepping out of arms reach. "I'm the one who has to wake up every morning short of breath. I'm the one who can't use magic because in the long run, I cough up blood. Don't act like you're all the only ones who have to deal with this."

His mother's hands clenched into fists. "You're not the only one who has to deal with this either." She took a few steps forward and gently poked her son's chest, right where his heart was. "We're here for you, so just accept the fact that when we ask you to be careful, to take your medicine, and to stop acting like you're already dead, you need to listen. And besides," she smirked, "if you don't listen, I'll snap your wand and ground you until you move out. Do I make myself clear young man?"

He ran a hand through his short ginger hair and sighed. Merlin, why did he have to pretend? Pretend as if nothing is wrong? That wasn't his style.

"Whatever." Rory said in a clipped tone.

His mother shook her head and turned on her heel. "I want you downstairs in five minutes."

"What if I don't want to go downstairs?"

"Well then, we'll leave without you. It'll get awfully lonely here all by yourself," she smirked. "Don't test me, boy."

"So you're saying I can stay?" He cocked his head a bit, a smile pulling at his lips.

His mother narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying you want to stay?"

"Are you implying that I can?"

"Downstairs; five minutes. I'm not playing with you, Rory." She gave him one last stern glare before leaving his room, closing the door behind herself.

Rory stared after her, a familiar warm feeling taking center stage in his chest. If everything else, he at least knew some things would always stay the same.

* * *

Awesome! First chapter! I hope you enjoyed it :) My partner and I worked pretty long on figuring out the details. So...

Review if you like! Hell, review even if you don't like it. We are open to suggestions.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the boldest thing in the bare blue sky. A light breeze tousled the hair of the students that were roaming the grounds, talking to their friends and catching up, relating all of the fun they'd had during their summer vacation. However, one boy stood out among them all.

He was obviously new, though he wasn't a first year. He was slim and didn't look particularly tall, but he had a strong physique; a build that one could attribute to natural good looks and running every morning. His eyes were a peculiar shade of emerald green, and his hair was a shock of red. He was a striking figure indeed; though despite his appearance, it was not his envious looks that caught the attention of the random passerby. No, it was the distant look in his eyes.

This boy, whoever he was, was obviously lost in thought. He had no one within thirty feet of him and over the past week, had made no new friends. In every aspect of the word, he was a loner. This was something that was particularly new to him. Where he had lived, he had been exceedingly popular; especially among the female population. It wasn't like he was upset about the lack of attention people had for him; in fact he appreciated it. It was just very new to him.

"Just because your mind is elsewhere, doesn't mean you aren't looking where you shouldn't be," murmured someone by his ear. "You've been staring at Fatima Ducannes for almost half an hour. She looks a little creeped out."

"Who are you?" His eyes flicked to the boy that was standing in front of him. He appeared to be no older than the red haired teen he was smirking at. His hair was long, falling to his shoulders in loose, messy curls. His eyes were an interesting shade of bluish gray, and held an unnerving gleam of insanity.

"Black," he said, his tone suggesting that this name was the key to the universe. "Sirius Black."

"Oh, sounds like you're mighty important," the red head scoffed. "Too bad I've never heard of you. I'm Rory O'Neill."

"Isn't that a girl's name?" Sirius snickered.

Rory tensed. "My mother said it was the name of one of my ancestors, who used to be a king."

"So a very important girl's name?"

"It is not a girl's name," Rory huffed.

Sirius laughed. "Okay, it's not a girl's name. Calm down, mate I'm only messing with you. I came over here to tell you that you were scaring off the ladies and to get to meet you. I heard that we had a transfer student, but I didn't even know Hogwarts did that kind of stuff. Why'd you move?"

"My curriculum was apparently more than I could handle," Rory sighed. "According to my mother, it involved too much magic."

"Too much magic? You are a wizard, right?"

"Of course, you dolt," he snapped. "It's my mam's fault."

"So what," Sirius inquired, he raised one elegant eyebrow. "Your mummy tucks you in every night too?" his tone of voice suggested that he was looking for trouble.

Rory grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, it's none of your business." He didn't leave him alone. If anything, his facial features took a vicious turn. He wasn't looking for a talk, he was look for someone to his frustration out on. A victim.

It's everything to be ashamed of." Sirius circled Rory with predatory grin, "That is unless you're a total bitch." He looked Rory up and down, "I think you're good."

"Excuse me?" Rory scoffed, his eyes widening.

"Did I stutter?"

Rory's hand twitched in the direction of his back pocket, debating on whether it would be a good idea to attack the boy standing before him. He was being marvelously rude despite having just met the ginger haired youth.

"I'm assuming from your words that you want to die," he said scathingly.

Sirius clenched his teeth, his nostrils flaring and wand hand twitching as well. "Is that a challenge?" His grey eyes turned dangerously dark.

As if Sirius's words had been the trigger for Rory's next actions, the red haired teen pulled his wand from his back pocket and took a step forward, raising it threateningly.

"If you want it to be," he said. "Yes, I suppose it's a challenge."

Sirius whipped his wand out. "Make your move, mummy's wittle treasure."

"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"

Sirius's body tensed up and his wand, which had previously been clenched in his hand, fell to the ground with a clatter that had been muted by the surrounding grass.

Rory blanched, turning to see a young man with messy black hair and round spectacles running towards them. "Who're you?"

"James Potter." The boy introduced himself. "I apologize for my friend here." James glanced at Sirius's still form on the ground. "I don't know what's going on with him these days."

"I guess its okay," Rory shrugged, pocketing his wand, his eyes never leaving the bespectacled boy, made wary by his companion. "It might have been partially my fault. He only came over here to talk."

James grimaced. "It's rare that Sirius merely talks. What's your name?"

"Rory O'Neill. I'm new here; I transferred to this school from Ireland."

James flicked his wand in the direction of Sirius and released the spell. He pulled himself onto his feet stretching out his limbs. "Partially? Try entirely his fault. His tone didn't set well with me." Sirius pointed at Rory, "You barely know me."

"I don't know you." Rory snapped. "And that's precisely why I still don't entirely understand what's going on. You were being extremely rude for no apparent reason."

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, sucking his teeth in annoyance. "It's your fault."

"How is it my fault?"

"You practically scream to be made fun of," he snorted derisively. "And if that isn't enough, you're belligerent and don't know how to take a couple of insults like a man."

"Excuse me?" Rory took a threatening step forward.

"You're excused."

That was the one sentence to bring Rory nearly off his hinges. The nerve of that bastard.

He took a step forward, but the boy who'd called himself James held him back, giving him a warning look. Rory took a deep breath and settled on glaring daggers of death at Sirius, whose smirk only grew wider at the sight.

"This is only proof of my words," he shrugged, walking around his friend to stand beside the red head. Rory rounded on him, swinging his fist up, hoping that it would connect with the bastard's face. Sirius caught his wrist and twisted his arm. Rory swore loudly.

"Sirius!"

"Yes?" Sirius asked mildly, his tone of voice was as if he was only calming down a toddler. He ignored the stream of curses coming from the boy he restrained.

"If you don't stop hurting him, I'll report you."

Sirius tensed as if his friend's words had been a physical blow. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," James said coolly. "If you don't let him go, I will report you. He didn't do anything to you, and yet you stand there and harm him so easily. This isn't like all of our other years here, Sirius. We're growing up. You need to start acting like you are."

Sirius's hand fell away from Rory's arm. His wide eyes, which had been alight with anger, were now dull and almost lifeless. It was a sight that pained James, but he couldn't let his friendship get in the way of his responsibilities.

Rory fell away from Sirius, stumbling and hitting his knees, taking deep, steadying breaths, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. He bit back a scream. It wasn't a scream of agony like people usually did when they were in pain; it was more a mixture of frustration and denial.

James took a step forward, ignoring his friend to help the red haired teen up from his knees.

"Are you okay? You look pale."

"I'm fine," Rory brushed him off and began to gather his things. "I need to go."

James frowned. "Alright. I'll see you around, O'Neill."

Without replying, Rory hurried away. James then turned to Sirius, his kind expression turning stern and unforgiving in an instant. It hadn't been just recently that their friendship had begun to turn into something darker.

"What's gotten into you?"

Sirius didn't answer, he just kept staring at James; or rather, staring through him. He wasn't looking at anything.

James sighed, stepping forward and grabbing his friend's arm. Immediately, Sirius jerked away as though he had been burned. "Don't touch me."

He picked his wand up and briskly shoved it into the folds of his robe. His expression now showed some strain. "Just don't, okay?" he repeated.

James sighed. "We need to talk, but this isn't the place to do it," his eyes looked around at the students that had been close enough to hear the commotion. "Come on, let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

With a lot of convincing from James, Sirius agreed to leave to their dormitory. Their walk had been silent, not an uncomfortable silent, but more of unyielding one where both parties refused to start their argument until they were alone.

Both of them knew that once they were in the confines of the room they shared with their two other friends, all Hell would break loose. It didn't seem as though either of them were prepared for that. James walked ahead of Sirius, hurrying up the stairs, his mind reeling desperately for some kind of solid argument.

He knew exactly what he was talking about when he had said Sirius was getting out of hand. However, he had no real way to prove that anything had changed. If James had been the way he had been a year ago, Sirius would not have seemed so childish and immature and just... downright mean. But now that he had gotten some sense knocked him into, somehow, he had finally seen just how stupid they had truly been.

He just didn't know when this got out of hand. They were just pranksters back then with loads to offer to the world, with much potential. Everything changed. And he didn't know what to do.

It was definitely a precarious situation. If Sirius had anything to say for himself, it would be, without a doubt, a good argument. If James knew anything about his friend, it was that Sirius knew how to weasel out of any bad situation. It had been precisely the reason they had gotten away with so many pranks in the past. Combining James's manners and Sirius's quick tongue, they could just about get out of anything, not to mention they had the help of Remus, who was a genius in his own right, and Peter, who could start a pity party with a single look. That was what had created the Marauders; that effortless ability to cause mayhem and get away with it.

It was precisely the reason they were all good friends; that taste for mischief was what had brought them together. The years had only succeeded in bringing them closer. Yet James could not identify this gap that was slowly getting wider between Sirius and himself. It was unnerving. It was terrifying.

Would James lose his best friend?

"You want to go first?"

James waved a hand at Sirius, motioning that he wasn't giving his best friend a choice.

Sirius breathed deeply, "Fine." He closed the door. "Why the hell did you go after ME AND NOT HIM," his voice steadily rising with each word.

"Because _he_ wasn't out of control, Sirius. You were."

"I don't believe I understand, Potter. What exactly is your definition of out of control?"

James scoffed and muttered "Potter?" under his breath. "My definition of 'out of hand' would be threatening to put another student at harm, and that is not okay, Sirius."

"He started-"

"STOP IT." James thundered. "Stop acting like a little child. Stop acting like the world owes you something!"

"And what if it does?" Sirius hissed, lunging forward and shoving James against the wall. His eyes had ignited once more with the same anger they had possessed earlier, only James was the target this time.

"What if the world does owe me something? I'm not like you James; I don't have a perfect life. I don't have wonderful parents, I don't have leisure time, and I don't make friends easily. I can't do the things that you can do."

James grimaced but didn't fight against him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You might think you're all mature now, but you're still just as childish as I am. Just because you've 'grown up' doesn't mean you can look down on the people you used to call your best friends."

"I'm not looking down on anyone." James snapped, fighting against his natural instinct, wanting so badly to punch his friend in the face but trying his best not to. It was like standing in front of a train coming at you at full speed.

"Oh," Sirius snorted, "aren't you? I've seen it for myself; I'm living it right now. You're not the only one who's changed, Potter."

James thrust his knee up, aiming to damage Sirius in the worst place a man could be hit, but he dodged it and pressed his forearm against James's throat, causing him to cough.

"I admit it, things are easier for me," he rasped. "I don't have douche bag parents, I have more time on my hands than I care to admit, and I'm great with people. But I'm far from perfect, Sirius."

"Thanks for that," Sirius muttered. "It doesn't change the fact that you're acting like a real prat right now."

"How do you mean?" James raised one of his eyebrows in disbelief and struggled against Sirius, using all of his strength, but it was in vain. Sirius was a Beater on the Quidditch team, making him just slightly stronger than James, who was merely a Chaser. "I'm not the one attacking his best mate now."

"I've ALREADY TOLD YOU." Sirius seethed, ignoring James's accusation. "Get it through that thick skull. The problem isn't just me. It's never been just me. It's both of us. We've never addressed what was so fucking obvious right from the beginning."

"Oh, and what's so obvious?"

"The fact that you and I are polar opposites. You can always say something positive; ever the optimistic. But I sit and sulk about things. Yes, I hate to admit it, but I can't help it. I'm just not like you, in every possible way I'm not like you. I'm not going to grow up because I've already grown up. I choose to act this way; I choose to act like a kid because I never got the chance to be one."

James was silenced by Sirius's confessions. He'd always known that Sirius had a hard time when he went home, no matter what time of the year it was, and he also knew that his friend hated every last second of the time he was forced to spend with his family. Over the years Sirius had spent a lot of time with the Potters and had become something like a pseudo-brother to James. They were so close, and yet despite everything, they still had never truly understood each other. There had always been a wall between them, blocking them from ever truly knowing what it was like on the other side.

"Is this going to be the end of our friendship? This fight?" James murmured, trying to mask the bitterness in his voice, but failing miserably. Sirius sighed and released him, moving away to lean against a nearby wall.

"No."

James nodded in relief. Sirius's mouth made a thin line, "Just—just answer this question," he said quietly.

James squinted at his friend curiously. "Okay..."

"You introduced yourself as 'James Potter, I'm sorry about my friend.'" Sirius stressed the word 'friend'. "Why?"

The other boy just looked at him. "Yeah. Aren't I?"

Sirius shook his head, frustrated. "That's not the way it goes. The sentence never goes like that!"

James stepped closer to Sirius; he was a bit bewildered at what Sirius was trying to say. "What do you mean by that? You are my friend, and always will be. Sirius, nothing will ever change that. Especially a few ill arguments." James moved to put a hand on Sirius's shoulder, but feeling a vague sense of betrayal, the teen shook off his friend.

"No!" he cried out, "You used to always introduce yourself as my best friend."

"Sirius, it's not that big of a deal how I worded—"

"Yes it is! It is because I feel like I'm losing you."

James sighed and then allowed himself a small smile. "What am I going to do with you?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"We're friends. Best friends; end of story." James nodded, tapping his chin as he considered his words. "But I figured it would get to you earlier. It was a good way to piss you off, I reckon. It did work, too. You looked like you were ready to kill the poor boy. Which also reminds me of something: you need to apologize."

Sirius snorted derisively. "What for? I didn't do anything."

"You called him a bitch, Sirius," James said coolly. "That was below the belt and you know it."

"It doesn't matter anymore." Sirius muttered. "We barely know each other. I don't even know what House he's in."

James grinned. "Hufflepuff. You wanted to meet the bloke and you didn't even watch the Sorting?" He snorted. "You're something else."

"A Hufflepuff? Come on, James. Don't make me do this."

"It's your own damn fault, mate. If it weren't for the fact that you embarrassed him and attacked him you wouldn't have to apologize, but as your best friend, and a Gryffindor Prefect, I ask that you bite back your questionable pride and tell him that you're sorry."

Sirius groaned loudly and leaned against the wall. "Merlin's saggy pants, I really hate you. Can't it wait until I've had a drink or two? I stole a couple of bottles from my parent's cabinet."

"Just because it's a weekend doesn't mean I'm off duty, Sirius," James pursed his lips, considering something. "If you share, I'll let it wait."

Sirius grinned so widely that James thought his face would split. He slid further down the wall and pulled out a medium sized suitcase from beneath his bed. He unzipped it and James saw four bottles. Sirius took one out and conjured up two cups, handing one of them over. "Bottoms up, mate."


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a long day, to say the least. Even though it was the weekend, and the beginning of the school year, of course the infamous Remus Lupin was studying. A single stack of rather large books sat to his right while a plump boy sat to his left.

"Could you chew quieter, Wormtail?" Remus mumbled, preoccupied with his reading. "I can't concentrate."

"Sorry Moony," the boy muttered around a mouthful of sweets. "It's kind of difficult. I'm a nervous eater; I haven't been able to find James and Sirius all day long."

"They were out by the lake, last time I saw them." Remus said, taking another page in between his pointer finger and thumb, flipping it to the next one.

"They're not there either!" Peter said, exasperated.

Remus sighed in annoyance, "Then check our dorm."

Peter gathered up his belongings with a huff and began walking up the stairs in the direction of their dorm. He didn't understand why Remus seemed so snappish. It was possible that he knew what was going on and didn't want to bother himself with it, or that he truly didn't know and he wanted Peter to shut up. The latter option seemed like the most likely.

When he reached the door that led into their dorm, Peter paused, curious at the sounds that were coming from the room. He leaned forward and pressed his ear against the wood, trying to hear.

Muffled tense voices greeted his ears. Peter pressed harder against the door. It seemed that he only caught the tail end of the conversation that occurred between Padfoot and Prongs.

'Just... answer... question?" their voices had gotten dangerously low. Then Peter heard James laughing and Sirius acting indignant at it. A few more muffled words, and he heard Sirius say, "A Hufflepuff? Come on, James. Don't make me do this."

Peter pushed himself lightly off the door. James and Sirius would be seriously angered if they knew he had listened in to their private conversation.

"What are you doing?" Said a Gryffindor that had been walking out of his own dorm area; a first year.

Peter bit his lip in nervousness. His eyes then narrowed slightly; he shouldn't be afraid of what a first year had to say. "Keep moving." He spit out eventually to the curious kid.

The eyes of the first year widened considerably and he scurried away, chagrined at having realized that he had dared to ask an upperclassmen what he was doing. Peter allowed himself a triumphant grin before turning away from the door to head back into the common room.

It wasn't like him to eavesdrop, but it also wasn't like James and Sirius to coop themselves up to talk. Normally whenever there was a problem with one of them, there was a problem with all of them, and they resolved the issue together. But this time was obviously different if whatever issue that had popped up between the pair required them to be alone.

Peter shuddered, his mind conjuring up nasty images of his torture if his friends found out that he had overhead their conversation.

"So were they up there?" Remus asked indifferently, flipping to the next page of his book. "Did you talk to them?"

"Yes and no," Pete collapsed into a nearby chair. "They were arguing about something. I heard some of their conversation. Please don't tell them."

"I wouldn't dare dream of it." Remus said, his eyes still fixated on his book. Peter saw the shadows under his friend's eyes. Which was understandable considering that Snivellus now knew his dark secret. The werewolf was probably losing sleep at the threat of Snape letting it loose.

"Haven't you slept?"

"Does it look like it?" He spent his nights turning and twisting, trying to go to sleep. At the most, every night, he had only been able to get four hours of sleep. If it weren't for that stupid, stupid incident last year! He might've rested well. But now, he just couldn't.

Remus told Sirius that he forgave him. That they were still friends, but Sirius hadn't believed him. To be honest, Remus barely believed himself, if not at all. He had trusted him with one of his greatest secrets. A secret that could get himself killed and essentially, many others. And Sirius had allowed a slip of the tongue, and to Severus Snape of all people. Remus had almost shredded another student because of Sirius's thoughtlessness.

"Have you heard?" A spry, scrawny girl in their year asked. She walked up to the couch that Remus and Peter were on and sat herself next to Remus. Alice, her name was. Remus had seen her in Lily Evans's little group of friends.

"Heard what?"

"There's a new kid in our year and he got into a fight with Sirius," Alice said conspiratorially. "He looked like he got pretty beat up. He ran away from the scene as soon as James gave him the opportunity."

Peter and Remus shared a glance. "Who started it?"

"I heard it was the new kid," Alice said, sitting straighter. "But I don't think anyone actually knows."

"So that's what that was about." Remus directed to Peter, a glowing understanding upon his face.

"What was what about?"

Remus set his book aside and looked at the girl sitting next to him. "Alice, will you give Peter and I moment? We've got things to discuss that I'm afraid can't involve you. I apologize."

Alice nodded in understanding. "It's okay, Remus. I'll see you two later, okay?"

"Alright," he waved, waiting for a moment before he turned to Peter. "What exactly did you hear?"

"Bits and pieces. But it sounds as if they're questioning this whole thing." Peter waved his hand vaguely around.

"This whole... thing?"

"Our friendship. Theirs, to be specific."

Remus took a deep breath and leaned back into the seat, thoroughly shocked. Never once had he questioned the friendship between James and Sirius. They had always seemed tighter than brothers. Remus and Peter couldn't even touch the bond they shared.

"What does that mean for us?" Remus asked quietly, more to himself than to Peter. The boy shrugged, unable to answer the werewolf's rhetorical question.

"Should we go in there and smack some sense into them?" Peter offered.

"No, this is something they need to work out on their own," Remus shook his head. "If we bother them it might make things worse. They just have to figure things out."

"And if they don't?"

"I don't know."

They sat silently for awhile until Peter cracked a smile."I do feel sorry for the kid that was on the receiving end of Sirius's temper."

Remus chuckled. "We'll probably never get the chance to meet him."


	5. Chapter 5

It was dark and cold; oh so cold. He could hardly feel his body, and yet he knew he was running. There was something telling him that he needed to run, because if he didn't, it would all end there. He could never run again. His eyes would never open. He would forever be suspended in this world of black.

At first nothing changed. The adrenaline kept pumping through his veins and the shadows kept getting darker; the atmosphere just got colder. But after what seemed like an eternity, a small light began to grow in front of him. It had a warm glow; like the small flame of a burning candle.

Rory willed his numb legs to carry him forward faster. He glanced over his shoulder, almost able to see the slivers of darkness trying desperately to catch up to him, to wrap its slimy tentacles around him and drain the life out of him; drain the light out of him.

"I don't wanna die," he gasped, tripping over his feet but catching himself before he could fall. "I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die."

He repeated this over and over. The light kept getting brighter, everything around him turned from comfortable warmth to a blazing inferno. Suddenly he was encompassed by the white-hot flames.

"I don't wanna die!"

Rory gasped, his eyes snapping open. He looked around frantically, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness. The curtains around his bed shielded his view of his dorm mates; vaguely he wondered if he had woken any of them up.

He was at Hogwarts. He was safe. His breath hitched as he thought back to the figure chasing him in his dream. That wasn't right. He hadn't had a nightmare like that since he was a little boy. Rory pulled himself into a sitting position, wrapping his arms tightly around his legs. "Just a dream, Rory, it was just a stupid dream," he repeated this lightly under his breath until his heart had finally settled into a slow, even pace.

He flinched as he heard a loud snort to the right of himself. Rory's head snapped in that direction, eyes wide, almost expecting the figure to be standing right there. But no, it was only his butthole of a roommate. Rory watched as Darias Holder turned over once more in his bed, perfectly sound asleep.

Rory sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Maybe it was best to just take a walk around Hogwarts. It wouldn't be too hard to not get caught. All he would have to do was stick in the shadows and he'd be fine.

As quietly as he could, Rory slid of out of his bed and eased out of the room, letting the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding out once he was in no danger of waking his dorm mates. He slipped of the common room and then made his way down the hallway, glancing over his shoulder every time he heard a sound he hadn't made.

As he walked, his mind drifted to his nightmare. He hadn't had a dream like that in years; not since he had found out that, sooner or later, the very thing that had been chasing him would finally catch him. Rory shuddered and hugged himself tightly, forcing the images out of his mind. Maybe teasing about his condition was easy to do out loud, but in the grand scheme of things, he was terrified. He couldn't talk to his mother because she was so optimistic about it. He knew that he wouldn't live as long as she said he would. He couldn't talk to his sister; he'd scare the shit out of her. And his father refused to even think about his condition, let alone talk about it.

The only thing he had left was to deal with it on his own. It was a heavy burden for a fifteen year old boy to carry, especially when he could have so much going for him. He'd always thought about it; why did it have to be him?

Rory knew that life wasn't fair, and that everyone was dealt a specific hand. But life wasn't set in stone either; a person had to carve their way through life, create a path, and choose the road they wanted to go down. Death was an inevitable part of life; it seemed though that Rory's death was inevitable _and_ swiftly approaching. How much longer did he have? What would he do in the time he had left?

He could almost hear the hands of his clock ticking, every passing second representing the amount of time he'd wasted.

"Damn..." he murmured, pausing in his walk to look out of a window to his right. He ambled towards it and stared up at the sky, finding the sight to be calming. The specks of white, yellow, and pale red that dotted the navy blue sky had been the object of his fascination for as long as he could remember.

_"Mam, when people die, they turn into stars,"_ he'd once said as a small boy while his mother tucked him into his bed for the night. _"They twinkle brightly. When you're a star you're happier than you were when you were human, because no one can hurt you."_

His mother had smiled and told him that he was right, and then had quickly left with tears in her eyes. It had confused him back then, but now he understood why she cried whenever he mentioned the stars. He had always likened them to the dead, because he just couldn't picture himself six feet under in complete darkness. He couldn't picture himself trapped for eternity in a wooden box.

What he could see was a star, burning brilliantly for years upon years; whenever he thought of himself as a star, he could smile. A real smile that could light up a room, just like a star.

"What are you doing up so late?"

Rory sighed and turned, leaning against the wall and he looked at the girl standing before him. She had slate gray eyes that looked horribly familiar and pale blonde hair and smooth ivory skin. A shiny badge on her robes told him that she was the Head Girl of Slytherin.

"I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk," he snorted. "My apologies for breaking the rules."

"Go back to your dorm or I'll write you up." She ordered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Rory turned around and looked out of the window again. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"And why not?" She demanded.

"I told you I can't sleep," he said calmly. "To be specific, I can't go _back _to sleep. I'm out here for a reason and I'm not causing any trouble, nor do I intend to. Either you can stay here and make sure of this or you can drag me back to my dorm," he chuckled, though it was a humorless sound. "Though I will wish you luck in that endeavor. Not only do you not know what House I belong to but I'll put up a fight."

He saw her jaw work a little bit and her eyes narrow. Rory raised both of his hands in a mocking surrender. She rolled her eyes. "Fine," she said in a put-out tone. Rory nodded his head in silent thanks. He turned to walk the other way but stopped when he heard the sharp click of her heels following him.

"What are you doing?" He asked with a twinge of annoyance.

"Following you," the older girl said simply, stopping alongside of him.

"Why?"

"Look, I don't want you ambling around Hogwarts by yourself. I could get in trouble if you get caught. It's easier on both of us if I accompany you." Her logic made a little sense, but that didn't meant that Rory had to like it.

"For once in my life—why can't anyone leave me alone!" He grit out between clenched teeth. He continued to walk but paced his steps faster.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He rounded on her. "I may have said that you were allowed to stay with me to make sure I didn't cause trouble, but that didn't mean I actually wanted you to."

"Well then how am I supposed to keep tabs on you?" She asked, raising a perfectly manicured brow. "If I'm not following you and you leave, I can't know if you're up to something."

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "That's not the point. I just want to be left alone!"

"Why, did something happen?"

"You're awfully nosy," he muttered, turning on his heel to continue his walk. She kept pace easily, trailing beside him. He didn't even spare her a glance as he turned down a random hall.

"That's rude," she said. "As a Head Girl, I take the well-being of the students of Hogwarts very seriously."

"You're a Slytherin," he scoffed. "Do you know how much you're contradicting yourself right now?"

"And I don't know what House you're in." She shrugged. "You could easily be one of my own, and I don't plan on disrespecting you until I know otherwise."

"Flawless logic," he muttered. "Simply flawless."

"You could stop being so sarcastic, I'm only trying to help," she snapped.

"I don't want your help," Rory said. "Did you ever think of that?"

She paused, unable to answer for a moment. Rory took a deep breath and stopped walking, turning to face her. He hated how he had to actually look up at her, but it didn't help that she was wearing heels. He couldn't actually tell if she was taller than him or not. Almost everybody was taller than him by that point.

"I'm not trying to be rude," he sighed. "I'm just not in a very good mood right now."

"And why is that?" She asked. "I'm being sincere; I do want to know what's upsetting you. I don't like it when people are rude to me for no reason, so if you have a reason, I want to hear it."

Rory crossed his arms over his chest. "What's your name?"

"Narcissa Black," she said.

Rory tensed. "Are you related to Sirius Black?"

"Yes..." she trailed off, frowning. "You know my cousin?"

"Sadly, yes I do," he grimaced. "He's a jerk."

"He can be," Narcissa conceded thoughtfully, choosing her words carefully as she spoke them. "But don't judge him too harshly. The life of a Black isn't all roses and dandelions, if you know what I mean. It's a lot harder to be us."

Rory rolled his eyes. "I don't care; it doesn't give him an excuse to be a prick."

"Is that what's upsetting you?"

"No," Rory muttered. "I actually came out here for a walk. I had a bad nightmare."

"You're scared of nightmares?" Narcissa scoffed.

"No!" Rory shuffled nervously. "These aren't just normal nightmares. I haven't had them since I was a little kid. They went away for a long time, but now they're coming back for some reason. I think I know why, but I can't tell you that."

"Okay..." Narcissa nodded. "So you just needed to cool off."

"Precisely." Rory nodded. "I just needed to take a nice relaxing walk... _alone_," he paused long enough to give her a pointed look, "... to get things off of my mind."

Narcissa smiled. "You know, things get off of your mind quicker when you talk about them."

"I already told you I can't tell you."

"Can you at least tell me about the nightmare?"

Rory didn't respond, turning instead to lean against the wall and shove his hands in his pockets. It was tempting to talk about; the girl was completely right. You forgot about things quicker when you weren't the only one who had to know about them and carry the burden of knowing.

"You're a stranger to me,"

"Only because we still haven't been properly introduced," she said. "What's your name?"

"Rory O'Neill,"

"Oh, you're the new transfer aren't you?"

"Yes I am."

She nodded. "That makes sense; I was wondering why you looked familiar. I couldn't recall where I'd seen you until I realized I'd seen you at the Sorting this year. Why'd you move?"

"My old school's curriculum was too harsh," Rory sighed. "They used way too much magic on a daily basis."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked. "Aren't you a wizard?"

Rory sighed and brought his hand up to his chest, placing it over his heart, feeling it beat erratically against his palm. "I'm not allowed to use too much magic. It hurts me."

"Are you a squib?" She spat out the last word as though it were diseased.

"No, I'm not a squib. I'm from a pureblood family," he snapped. "But that's not the point. I'm not supposed to tell anyone what's wrong with me because if people knew, they could take advantage of that."

"Well that would make them despicable human beings," Narcissa said. "You can tell me. I don't gossip, though I do listen to it."

Rory grimaced. "I don't know."

"You do want to tell someone, I can tell."

"Is it that obvious?" He muttered sheepishly, then startled. "No I don't!"

She chuckled. "Yes it is," she rolled her eyes then nodded. "Come on, tell me. I won't tell a soul."

"Well..." Rory paused. "We don't know exactly what's wrong with me. It's a rare heart disease; it doesn't have a name yet. My heart hadn't developed properly before I was born, so when my mother gave birth, I nearly died. They shot me up with medicines to allow them to keep me alive, but it hardly helps. When I was younger I stayed inside all the time. I couldn't go outside because I moved around too much; I'd start coughing up blood." Rory shifted uncomfortably, crossing his ankles. "It's some sort of degenerative heart disease; that's what the doctors say. Magic only makes it worse. I can move around and run and stuff now, but magic does what moving around did when I was a child."

Narcissa frowned, "That's—"

Rory held up a hand, "No, no pity. At all, Narcissa."

She crossed her arms. "Of course I pity you. At least, a little bit. But that doesn't change who you are."

"And who am I?" he asked, glancing at her.

Narcissa shrugged her shoulders, "I guess you'll have to show me. An illness does not dictate what kind of person you are. For all I know you could be a bratty child." Rory looked at her in surprise. She smirked, "What'd you expect? Some sort of heartfelt proclamation of how much of a good person you are? How I will never pity you? I do pity you. It's not always a bad thing. For one, it could get you out of doing your homework."

Rory snorted. "I'm going to die, Narcissa. Before I have kids, probably. Homework is something that I don't really do regardless."

"Now you're just asking for pity." Narcissa said. "Don't say things like that unless you're prepared to have someone tackle you and drown you in their tears."

"Are saying that because deep down, that's exactly what you want to do?" Rory smirked.

Narcissa rolled her eyes, "Don't get your hopes up, kid."

"Oh, by the way, you never told me what that dream of yours was about," Narcissa said as she walked beside Rory. "We got off topic earlier."

"Yes we did," Rory sighed. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you do," Narcissa smiled wickedly. "Or else I'll write you up."

Rory glared at her. "No you won't. That would be lying."

"Oh, but it will still be your word against mine. Who is the Head of Slytherin going to believe? His precious Head Girl or a random decrepit Hufflepuff who'd been out of bed after hours?"

Rory huffed. "You're a horrible person."

"Oh, on the contrary, Rory," she said happily. "I'm a lovely person. You just don't know me as well as I know you wish you did."

"Can I just give you the abridged version?"

Narcissa shrugged. "I guess. We're almost to the entrance to your House so that would probably be best."

"Okay," Rory sighed in relief. "I was running away from something. I guess you could call it darkness, because it was pitch black behind me, though it was moving. It had hundreds of tentacles reaching for me, trying to grab me and suffocate me. I'm afraid of the dark I guess." He murmured sheepishly. "It's why I went for a walk. The stars and the moon light up the halls at night. I like looking at the sky when I have nightmares."

"Couldn't you have just done that in your room?" Narcissa mused.

"No," Rory shook his head. "I needed to get up and move. I needed to get out of my room. Walking helps me think through things."

"And talking to random strangers," she smiled and then stopped walking. "Well, here we are. I'm going to assume you feel better, so now I order you to go back to bed before I actually write you up this time."

"I suppose we aren't strangers anymore," Rory muttered the password and held the door open, pausing for moment to think of some way to say goodbye. "I guess I'll see you around."

"I guess so." She said awkwardly. Rory nodded and turned. Just before the portrait door closed behind him, he heard her say, "If I catch you out of bed again, I'll write you up next time for sure."

Rory barely slept that night. But the sleep he did catch, he didn't have nightmares. Talking to Narcissa Black really had helped him. Maybe in more ways than he could imagine.

"Oi! Get your ass up! It's time for breakfast." Rory lifted his head slightly and let it fall back on his pillow. He groaned loudly. Screw breakfast, he was tired. All of a sudden his sheets were pulled from him. Rory sat up quickly.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. He glared viciously at the other boy. Amos Diggory was an alright kid, but cockblocking him from his sleep crossed a very dangerous line.

"Get up!" the boy's smile faltered when he saw the expression on Rory's face. "What's wrong?"

"The fact that I'm bloody tired!" Rory snapped leaning over to snatch his blanket's from the boy's hands. "So leave me alone. I want to sleep. Wake me up before class starts."

"I won't be able to do that." Amos began his sentence uncertainly, "I'll be out and about once breakfast is done. The DADA teacher is pretty harsh, I hear. I'm not taking the chance of being late to her class."

Rory sighed. "I don't want to wake up right now. What about Victor? Can he wake me up?"

"Nope, he's nowhere to be found. But I suspect he's somewhere with his new girlfriend." Amos shuddered. "You should've seen them snogging yesterday near the pitch—it was a nightmare. So much saliva—"

"Shut up!" Rory shouted, launching himself from his bed and pressing his hands against his friend's mouth. "Please, I really don't want that image in my mind right now. I've got enough to worry about."

Amos laughed and pulled Rory's hands away. "Alright, mate, I won't torture you. So I guess you're awake now?" He grinned at Rory's accusing glare. "I'll see you in the Great Hall. Darias wanted me to get down there as quickly as possible; he was rushing out of the dorm when I was just waking up."

"Gotta take a shower first." Rory mumbled as Amos ran out the door. "An extremely long one."


	6. Chapter 6

When it finally came to the point that if Rory stalled any longer he wouldn't be able to eat breakfast, he finally grabbed his bag and trudged out of his room at a snail's pace. He really wasn't looking forward to doing any work, especially in his tired and disgruntled state. This just didn't feel like it was going to be a good day.

Of course the Great Hall was crowded, especially at the late hour. With only fifteen minutes left to spare before class, students were scrambling to talk to their friends for as long as humanly possible without being late. Rory hated the sight of so many students in one place, knowing that some of them had struck up conversation about him when they noticed him. Word about the incident between Sirius and Rory had spread like the plague.

"Oi, look who made it!" Darias shouted from the Hufflepuff table. He waved frantically at Rory, gesturing wildly for him to take the empty seat beside him. "Victor was here a moment ago, but he just left; said he had to get a few things from the library."

Rory snorted, taking a piece of toast off of Darias's plate. "Sounds like an excuse to me."

"You know how he is," Darias waved a nonchalant hand. "A closet ladies man for sure. Refuses to believe he can date anyone but still ends up having a girl almost every week. Isn't that strange?"

"It's criminal," Rory agreed around a mouthful of bread. "Stealing all of the beauties from you."

Darias nodded in fervent agreement. "Hey, have you seen Amos?"

Rory frowned. "He said he was coming to meet you here. Did you not get a chance to see him? He was gone before I could summon the strength to get out of bed."

"No," Darias huffed. "I'm going to rip that boy a new one." He paused, looking away from Rory. "Hey, isn't that Sirius Black?"

"What?!"

"He's coming this way," Darias whispered. "Hurry mate, hide under the table, I got your back."

Rory swatted Darias's hand away. "I'm not hiding under the table. If he's coming over here to start another fight, I'll just beat the living hell out of him."

"You might win," Darias snickered. "He's bigger than you but he looks drunk, even with those shades on."

Rory stood, deciding to ignore his friend, and walked around the table, deciding that it would be best if they took what was sure to be a loud argument into the hall, away from the eyes that were trained on the pair. Before Sirius could open his mouth, Rory grabbed his forearm and tugged, pulling him out of the Great Hall.

"Oi, don't touch me," Sirius snapped, trying to break Rory's grip.

"Shut up," Rory hissed. "I'm trying to keep this from becoming a scene. Just be quiet for as long as is possible for the likes of you and let me do you a favor. I'm sure whatever gibberish that is about to come out of your mouth right now will be embarrassing for the both of us."

With that, Sirius was thrust into a stunned silence. He had nothing to say now; thank you just didn't seem appropriate. Instead of saying anything at all, he opted instead for being dragged out of the Great Hall by a boy that was a head shorter than him. After what seemed like an eternity, Rory released him and turned on his heel to face Sirius.

"What do you want?" He snapped his emerald eyes like daggers. "The last time you walked up to me it ended with bruises." Rory yanked up the sleeve of his robe to prove it. Sirius winced at the vicious purple marks marring the boy's smooth pale skin.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, turning his head.

Rory blanched. "What did you just say?"

"Bloody hell!" Sirius snapped. "I said I was sorry. How many fucking times do I have to say it? You should get your ears checked, mate."

"Excuse you?" Rory hissed, his face tilting a bit up to look the other straight in the eyes. Sirius winced at the harsh sound. Rory's eyebrows quirked at the oddness of it. "Take off your sunglasses," he demanded. Sirius shook his head, his expression twisting into something that could be described as pain. "You are drunk!" Rory said accusingly. He thought back to what his fellow Hufflepuff had said.

"So what if I am?"

Rory glared, "You have to get drunk just to get enough balls to tell me that you were wrong? That's pathetic."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Forget I even bothered."

"Not hard to. Since the effort was half-assed in the first place."

"Oi," Sirius snapped indignantly. "This apology is coming from the heart!"

Rory raised an eyebrow at that. "Your heart, you say? What heart?" He chuckled, but it was a humorless sound. "You practically beat up a new kid without a second thought because his tone didn't set well with you."

Sirius had nothing to say to that. Rory nodded and took a step back, as if he were about to leave. "You're pathetic Sirius. When you come to me sober and apologize, maybe I'll accept it. But you're not fooling anyone. Grow up."

That struck a nerve. "What did you just say?"

"I said to grow up. Only a child apologizes when he's drunk." Rory snapped. "Sirius Black, you are a child; whether or not you choose to be one is not the point. When certain circumstances call for you to act like an adult, you don't question it. End of story."

"Stop saying that." He gritted out with a stricken look on his face.

"No, I won't, because my mercy is something less than you deserve. I won't sit back and let you be a prick because you're not happy." Rory growled. "You made fun of me about circumstances you have no idea about, but because I'm not a CHILD I won't stoop that low. I'm plenty okay with just making you feel like the dirt I walk on."

Sirius's mouth opened and closed several times before he decided to shoot the ginger haired teed a furious glare and march angrily back to the Great Hall. Rory waited for a moment, watching Sirius as he walked away. With a sigh he shook his head and followed after.

"What was that about?" Darias asked through the pancakes that he stuffed down his throat, glancing at Rory as he sat beside him.

Rory shrugged, "It wasn't anything."

"I don't know," Darias muttered dubiously, swallowing his food and glancing anxiously between the dark haired Gryffindor and Rory. "The bloke looks livid."

"He's a child," Rory shrugged, idly spreading jelly onto the toast he knew he wasn't going to eat. He was doing it so he could have something to look at other than Sirius or Darias. "He doesn't want to listen to anyone except himself, and when he does finally listen, he gets angry when he knows he's wrong. He's a child."

Darias was silent for a moment. "That doesn't sound like nothing."

"Damn it!" Rory exclaimed, giving up on the toast as he threw it onto the plate, willing his hands to stop shaking as he clenched them into fists. Why was he so worked up over this? It wasn't like him. Normally if someone didn't like him he moved on, but why did Sirius seem different? Why couldn't he be like the rest of them and allow Rory to forget him in peace? "Damn it!"

"Are you okay, Rory?" Darias asked quietly, looking around at the people staring at them. "People are staring at you."

"Damn it," Rory stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Tell our teacher than I went to see Madam Pomfrey."

"Oi," Darias shouted after Rory, but the ginger haired teen ignored him, hurrying out of the Great Hall as fast as he could without doubling over. He didn't keep his medicine with him, but like hell, he wished he did right then.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest and he held back a cough. "Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he climbed the stairs. "He's so infuriating. Why did he have to come up to me that day?"

Rory leaned against the wall for a moment to catch his breath when he reached the top of the stairs, closing his eyes. "He's just a child. An infuriating, idiotic, rude, child. Nothing more and nothing less. I just need to forget about this. I just need to calm down." Rory nodded to himself, trying to control the tremors rocking his body, clenching and unclenching his hands. "I just need to breathe. Breathe, Rory… just breathe."

Rory growled under breath and opened his eyes. For every person that had ever made him mad he had taken ten deep breaths. Every breath calmed him down and eased the erratic pace of his diseased heart. It helped him look at the situation in a new light, but with every breath he took, his anger just got worse and worse.

He dropped his bag and suddenly rounded on the wall, slamming his fist against the stone surface. Rory gasped and retracted his hand, clutching it against his chest. When the throbbing subsided slightly he grimaced and glanced at the wall; then he punched it again. And again and again and again until there was a dark crimson stain on the wall and the rapid swelling of his hand prevented him from moving a finger. He shuddered once, leaving his fist pressed against the wall. How was this solving anything?

Rory grabbed up his bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder, cradling his injured hand to his chest. As he walked he shook his head, laughing at his foolishness. If he allowed a pathetic and spoiled brat to get to him the way Sirius had, how would he be able to live the rest of his life in peace.

"It might be best if I ignored him from now on."

"Madam Pomfrey?"

When Rory entered the infirmary, an elderly woman was standing beside a bed, folding the linens that had probably just been washed at the foot of the bed. Upon hearing her name being called, the witch turned, only to do a double take. Rory stood near the entrance, holding his left hand against his chest. It was swollen and nearly as red as his hair; multiple gashes marred the surface, and blood oozed from the wounds. He was breathing heavily and his unnaturally pale skin glistened.

Madam Pomfrey hurried to his side and urged him in the direction of the nearest bed. "Lie down, lie down! Is this an attack?"

"No ma'am," he muttered sheepishly. "I was having trouble with my heart... and then I took my anger out on the wall."

The matron tusked. "You need to be more careful and learn how to control that temper. Your mother will not be happy when I tell her about this."

"Don't tell her," Rory groaned, adjusting himself on the thin mattress until he was comfortable. "She'll have my head on a platter."

"Now you know your mother has requested to know about every time you've visited me," Madam Pomfrey said as she cleaned the blood from his hand. "I can't deny her that. You're her son."

"Well yeah, I guess..." Rory muttered. "Just don't tell her about this," he gestured to his hand, "because then she'll be really upset. I know she needs to know about things like this but I'll tell her when I'm ready to. No doubt Aine will tell her about it."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "How is your little sister?"

Rory shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen her since we were sorted into our Houses. I'm hoping I'll get to see her this weekend. We promised we'd focus on our schoolwork during the week and leave catching up to the weekends. But I wasn't able to see her last weekend. Something held me up."

"And that was...?" The matron prompted.

"Nothing to be worried about," Rory said evasively. "Nothing that will ever happen again, to be sure."

She set him with a stern look. "I hope you're right."

Rory pursed his lips. "Hey, uh, I was wondering if I could get a pass?"

Pomfrey nodded, "Of course. I would suggest that you lay here for awhile first; to help settle yourself down."

Rory nodded once and then leaned back against the bed, letting his legs dangle over the edge. "Madam, do you ever think about when you'll die?"

"Of course not," she said evenly. "And you shouldn't either."

"Witches and wizards have really long life spans. We can live until we're a hundred and even past that," Rory whispered, staring up at the arched ceiling. "But sometimes I wonder if I'll even live to be twenty. When I was a kid it was bad. It's gotten better, but I still get the coughing fits. I still get tired easily. I can't use magic often. What do I have going for me?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "You have the world, Rory, believe me. It is true you might not live very long, but I heard once that it's not how long you live that makes life worth living, but what you do in your lifetime that makes it all worth it in the end."

"Those are very morbid words," he sighed, closing his eyes. "It still hurts."

"I'll go get your medicine. Is there anything else you need in the meantime?"

Rory shook his head, "No ma'am, I'm fine. I just need to rest."

"That's a good boy."

Rory listened to the quick steps of the matron fade until he could no longer hear her. He knew that she stored his medicines in a special place where she wouldn't lose them or accidentally give them to other students, mistaking it for something else. He let his eyes open slowly and lifted his injured hand. As the blood rushed down his arm, unable to flow upwards properly, his hand began to throb, distracting him from his heart's uneven and frantic pace.

He grimaced and bit his cheek. "I hate this," he hissed under breath. "I really hate this."

Pomfrey came back after what seemed like an eternity to Rory, seeing as how he had been so preoccupied with his thoughts. After giving him his medicine, she handed him a small sheet of parchment with a short note scribbled on it and an elegant signature. "You're free to go," she said to him, "but you have to avoid stressors. They'll wear you down fast."

"That was my plan before I even got here," Rory sighed, swinging his legs around so he could slide off the bed. He took the slip of parchment from Madam Pomfrey and gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"It's no problem at all Rory," she smiled and patted him on the head. "That pass I gave you gives you the option to skip all of your classes today. I take your condition very seriously," she gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Get some rest, boy, and come see me tomorrow morning after breakfast before you go to class."

Rory nodded and pocketed the pass. "Okay, I think I can manage that much. I'll see you tomorrow."


End file.
